Musically Naked

On our final day at the beach, I was unable to continue with my usual out-loud surfing commentary.  I had had a profoundly weird dream the night before and it needed to be mulled over.

A dream expert would, if they were worth their fee, have no difficulty interpreting this dream.  It involved me greatly disappointing our worship pastor.  Even more than usual.

A usual disappointment would involve me confidently asserting that I could play a quiet piano solo during communion, only to suffer from stage-fright at the last minute and accidentally hit some particularly bad notes while I am "musically naked," disgracing myself in front of a fairly large auditorium of people.  It only happens when I feel, as I say, "musically naked."  When covered by the band, most of these mistakes go unnoticed.

And I am not talking about a few little wrong notes that could be misconstrued as a sixth-chord, a sus2 or sus4, or even a major 7th.  I'm talking full-on F#-in-the-key-of-C type errors.  Mistakes that would cause the most un-musically-gifted to look up from their contemplation, turn to their loved ones beside them and say, "Is she okay?"

(I often joke that I need to make one of those sorts of mistakes in every service.  Most times when I make a glaringly obvious mistake like that, I relax, confident in the knowledge that I've made my one howler and will then be fine for the rest of the service.)

Anyway, in my dream there was one song in this particular service that I had no hope of playing.  I didn't know it, I didn't get it, and I can't read music particularly well.  By strange dream-typical coincidence, I had not put one minute of thought or practice in prior to the service, and was feeling terribly panicky.  I knew that I had to hold up my end of the musical bargain and play well, even if it meant fudging it.  I felt the weight of expectation as my band were relying on me, but I knew I'd need a lot of divine intervention if I was going to play this song even remotely well.

As is typical in dreams, I then found myself in a hopeless situation that had neither antecedants nor reason.  With a few minutes to go before the service, I found myself plunged into the worst type of "wardrobe malfunction" known to dreamers.

Upon reflection, I realise that frequently using the phrase "musically naked" was setting me up for just such a Freudian disaster during my sleep hours.

Alone in a room of what had transformed into a surprisingly traditional church, I panicked as I realised I was not even decent enough to go and tell my band that I would not be able to go on stage that night.  I didn't want to let them down and disgrace myself, but believe me, if I went on that stage I was going to disgrace the whole lot of us.

I didn't want to bail out without explanation or apology, but I had little choice.  I found myself desperately grabbing various pieces of ecclesiastical fabrics (the word "cassock" springs to mind, though my picture of a cassock would lend greater coverage than the embroidered tea-towel-like scraps available in my dream) with which to clothe myself as I dashed home.

My dream ended in my band being furious with me, and with me being unable to furnish an explanation worthy of repetition.

Ghastly.

And now I need a new phrase to use instead of "musically naked."  Another dream like that and I will have to change churches.